


Rook

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Series: Namesake [18]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Afterlife, Blood and Gore, Board Games, Character Death, Character Study, Choices, Dark Character, Death, Devils, Gore, Horror, Immortality, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Insanity, Killing, M/M, Masochism, Master & Servant, Mild Gore, Murder, Rebirth, Religion, Religious Fanaticism, Resurrection, Shougi, Soul Selling, Swearing, Trickster Gods, Tricksters, luck, shogi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea in my head one day to bring some of the Naruto characters face-to-face with the thing they were named after for the first time. I thought it might be fun. Also accepting challenges!</p><p>Stories will be posted separately but as part of the Namesake series.</p><p>Part 18: Rook</p><p>A dying Hidan chooses hell over heaven and meets Jashin, the god who grants him the wish to forever enjoy the bliss of dying as long as he pays for his gift with blood.</p><p>Implied Hidan/Jashin... because clearly Hidan will do anything Jashin asks of him and gladly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishimaru_Asuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishimaru_Asuka/gifts).



> To issue a challenge, just comment on one of the stories in the series with the name you'd like to see done. The only stipulation is that it HAS to be a name that has a meaning, and it has to be a meaning that is something one can encounter. Example: Madara means "spots." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? On the other hand, Naruto's name refers to some kind of fish cake, which is something he could confront somehow.
> 
> Hidan challenge from Ishimaru_Asuka
> 
> Hi = Rook, To Soar  
> Dan = Stairs

He felt the knife sliding in between his ribs before he remembered waking. At first, he thought it might just be a morbid manifestation of an overactive imagination; it would hardly have been the first time he had dreamed of dying. The pain this time was more pronounced than that, though. When his eyes flashed open in surprise, the face that hovered over his was unfamiliar, but smiling. He had no idea who it was that sought to kill him, or why, but such details often escape the victims of murder. There was a hand clasped over his mouth to keep him from yelling out. He had already lost too much blood to have full control over his body. His limbs felt like lead, but he flailed anyway. His mind was already too fuzzy to come up with a plan. 

Even dying, he remembered the fascination he had felt at the overwhelming adrenaline rush of pain. The heart in his chest beat wildly, struggling as he struggled to avoid its now sealed fate. He had already lost too much blood and his lung was pierced. He could feel the hot, searing pain in his lungs and chest, every breath like choking on shards of glass. The frenzy of trying to draw breath and failing was like a drug. It was too bad he’d never get to try it a second time…

 _I’m dying,_ he thought with awe as the world grew dark. The man’s face faded from view, and eventually even the immersion in the sensations of suffering slowly drained from him. And then, nothing.

* * *

 

Before him was a staircase. It floated somewhere in a world of void. That was the only way to describe it, for it was not anchored on a physical plane, and the air was thick and cloying. With a shock, he realized he wasn’t breathing. He lifted his palms, staring at the broad expanse of skin, disbelieving. _Am I dead, then? Is this heaven? Hell?_ He turned his attention back to the staircase. Every step was a different size, a different shape, and different color. He stood on a landing of sorts. Stairs vaulted up into the ether above; stairs descended into the darkness below. He was obviously meant to make a choice.

In his mind, he automatically labeled the directions _heaven_ and _hell_. Everyone knew that heaven rose up into the stars, and that hell was a deep black pit. By that logic, ascending the staircase was to choose heaven, and if he chose to go down the stairs, he should find hell. No one would willingly choose hell. _No one._

Except that the fresh rush of adrenaline that had accompanied the dying was both strange and thrilling. Those that walked the garish halls of heaven would know nothing about that. He craned his neck up, taking one last look at the correct choice, spiraling upward at impossible angles into the realm of angels. To go up that way would be to abandon the joy of dying forever. It was an abhorrent thought. With a mischievous smirk, he grasped the bannister of the other staircase and started down.

It took a long while to get there, but then again, when you’re dead you’ve got nothing but time. He found, also, that he neither tired nor grew bored. He wondered, dimly, if the length of time was the same for everyone; this was probably just a chance for people to change their minds, to give up the folly of volunteering for an eternity of torture and pain in favor of the everlasting bliss of the gods. Again, his chin darted skyward, observing how much brighter the stairs that rose up into the nothing seemed from this far below. He smiled, wishing the kind hearted souls well, feeling special for his enigmatic choice to forsake their shining world. His place was here.

Eventually, he came to a silvery veil. It appeared like a spherical body of water, shimmering and rippling across its surface. To continue, he would need to walk through it. He brushed the surface with his fingertips, and searing heat spiked his fingers, lancing him through his chest and causing him to inhale sharply, swallowing the syrupy air and coughing on the taste of ashes. The sensation made him ecstatic; with a renewed sense of rightness, he stepped through the bubble.

Feeling the wet bubble of pain on his skin, daggers from fingertips to toes and napalm flowing through his veins, sent him to his knees just inside its border. His skin writhed and burned white hot, filling the empty vessel of his heart with sublime ecstasy so wonderful that he moaned aloud. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crashed out upon the smooth, too-cold floor. He felt like the living embodiment of fire, and wondered if perhaps this was why hell was associated with burning flames…?

 _Fuck me_ , he thought, _if this isn’t the most pleasurable fucking feeling…_

There was a low, deep chuckle, but his eyes were too blinded with bliss to bother looking at its source.

 _Let him laugh, the smarmy bastard._ He would let no one interrupt his pleasure.

“I have to admit,” intoned the impossibly deep voice, “that for all the fools that dare choose down instead of up, I’ve never seen a reaction quite like yours. I’ve seen men scream, weep, and shit themselves on innumerable occasions, but I’ve never seen a man get off on the feeling of being flayed alive.” He paused, waiting for Hidan to react, but Hidan was far too busy experiencing the indescribable gladness to bother profaning the delight with crude words. He laughed again, clearly amused at Hidan’s expense. “Whenever you’re done here, join me.”

Vaguely, Hidan heart the slow click of boot heels on a smooth floor as the being left him there. _Good_.

When at last the pain subsided, leaving Hidan feeling bereft and vulgar once again, he pushed himself to his knees and blinked open his eyes. The floor was black marble with pulsing white veins, almost as if it were alive. He smoothed his palms over the tile and felt an echoing thrum leap to his skin, sending little jolts sizzling through his blood all over again. He laughed aloud at the revelation, wondering how many people mistakenly believed that heaven lay in the ‘up’ direction, as he had. Surely he had found true heaven, and _he’d never fucking leave it again!_

He pushed himself to his feet, ready to ask the other person here what he had to do to be allowed to stay. The chamber seemed to be a quite large one, and circular. The floor was black and white marble, and the ceiling overhead was a series of clear piping that shimmered in the eerie, otherworldly glow that permeated the chamber. Hidan couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the light, but the place didn’t suffer for a candle. In the very center of the room was a single low table, and the man who had spoken to Hidan sat cross-legged, cross-armed on a cushion at the opposite side.

“Welcome,” the other man said when he realized Hidan was finally giving him his full attention. To Hidan’s shock, the other man was a mirror image of himself, with the same tanned skin and dark hair as his own. His eyes were the same brilliant green, filled to the brim with amusement and shimmering with the deep pools of wisdom. The malevolent, demonic quality of his features didn't even faze Hidan. Evil was relative to perspective.

_And oh, did Hidan have some fucking perspective now!_

“Who are you?” Hidan asked, amazed.

“I am the darkest reflection of the evils of man,” the deep voice intoned. “I am called Jashin.”

“Jashin,” Hidan murmured, testing the name on his tongue. “And where am I?”

“Dead,” Jashin confirmed. “You, and so many before you, arrived at the staircase and were forced to make a choice between up and down. From that moment, your fate was in your own hands.”

“And what’s my fate? Are you going to take my soul?” he asked. He didn’t fear it, merely needed an answer to the question.

Jashin nodded. “That is my purpose, yes. Most that choose to take the staircase to this place think themselves above the bonds of pain. They think that they can overcome it, defeat evil and defeat death, eradicate hell altogether. They come here thinking themselves heroes.”

“What happens to them?”

Jashin’s lips curled in a feral smile. “They are enslaved and await my pleasure.”

Hidan thought about the spike of pain he’d felt upon entering here, and decided that it didn’t sound so bad to be at this man’s mercy, so long as he could feel that way forever and always. He bowed his head low to the other and said breathily, “Allow me to serve you then.”

Jashin laughed again, the maniacal music echoing in the hollow chamber. “Play with me,” he commanded affectionately.

Hidan blinked, noticing the board upon the low table for the first time. “I… don’t understand.” A board game? But why?

“When you convulsed with pleasure upon my doorstep,” Jashin explained, “I found I quite had a different purpose for you in mind. I can be… impulsive, though. So, we’re going to play this game. If you win, I’ll make you into one of my thralls, and you will serve me in perpetuity in this, my unholy temple." His hands rose, palm up, indicating their surroundings. "If I win, I’ll tell you what... else... I have planned for you.”

“Very well,” Hidan answered, thrilled and a bit fearful at what the outcome might entail. He so much wanted to stay here forever, but if this god—for surely, he _had_ _to be_ a god—had special purpose for him, it might be even more blissful than his first experiences here. Just thinking of it caused him to shiver with anticipation. “I will play.” His voice came out a whisper as he lowered himself to the opposite cushion.

Everyone had heard of Shougi, but Hidan himself had never played. The Land of Hot Water was disconnected from the rest of the ninja world, and luxuries were especially expensive. Only the wealthy had shougi boards in their homes. No one else cared or bothered to pick up the game. “I’ve never played,” Hidan admitted, feeling a twinge of despair that he had already failed the only god he had ever met.

An ugly expression of anger flickered across the other man’s face. He swept the board aside with one arm, sending the pieces flying. Before any of them hit the marble floor, they vanished into nothing. The board smashed against the stone and shattered into a million tiny silver sparks before it, too, disappeared. The two men stared at each other, Hidan feeling guilty and apologetic, Jashin attempting to fry him with wrath alone.

There was the sound of something making repetitive motions on the wooden table between them. Both their eyes fell upon the source of the sound at once. A single black stone tile inscribed with golden kanji spun upon the pointed vertex of the pentagon. Both men stared as it spun, spun, and then slowed to a stop, standing straight up on its vertex, a physical impossibility in a world where nothing made sense. Their eyes met in the space over the black tile. “I have changed the game,” Jashin said softly, his rage subdued. “If you can guess what the name of this tile is, and what it does, you win and I will grant you any wish that you desire. If you cannot, I will cast your soul into oblivion, and you will know neither heaven nor hell instead.”

The combined mix of ecstasy and fear intensified. Hidan closed his eyes, exulting in the sensation, thinking of an eternity convulsing at the doorway of Jashin’s unholy temple, the delightful agony of filling his veins with acid and breathing in shattered glass. The possibility that he might lose and know that pain no more was depressing. He couldn’t lose.

He picked up the tile between his finger and his thumb, turning it about. The kanji upon the tile suggested something about a ‘flying chariot’, but instinctively, he knew that that was not its name. He searched his memories for the names of the pieces, but his mind came up blank. He had never held a piece in his hands, nor seen a Shougi board. He could only remember that there was a king that needed to be saved, and the rest of the pieces were engaged in a tactical war.

Minutes passed, and Hidan grew worried that he would disappoint.

As he desperately searched for the answer, Jashin grew impatient. “I had higher hopes for you,” he grated. “Such a shame I will have to purge your soul when you could have been so useful.”

 _No!_ his soul screamed. He needed to be a part of this arcane world. His imagination devised a sort of gambit, and in an urgent plea for his salvation, he blurted, “Hidan. This piece is called Hidan.” _Please accept me, Lord Jashin!_ Jashin’s eyes narrowed as Hidan spoke. “And his purpose is to cause _so much_ fucking pain and destruction in service of his God against His enemies.” His dark green eyes bore into those of Jashin, pledging his life in service to the god, naming the tile after himself and offering his skills. _I will kill whoever the fuck you tell me to,_ he silently vowed. 

Jashin swallowed astonishment. He could see in the way that Jashin’s eyes smoldered that he had, against all odds, guessed correctly. He felt the ignition of destiny bloom within him. It could not have been more perfect! Jashin’s rage flared only for an instant, for he snatched the tile out of Hidan’s hand with an exaggerated pout, then crushed it to a fine golden glitter that vanished into the air that wasn’t air. “Your wish?” he asked with a crook of an eyebrow.

Hidan leaned across the table, palms pressed to the cool surface, hungry for his reward. “The suffering,” he begged rapturously. “I want to _feel_ it. I want to keep dying, forever.”

A slow sneer curled over Jashin’s blackening lips, causing Hidan to shiver to the core. “Most men wish for immortality,” he mocked as his skin bled to black, “to live forever, to be powerful. Yet you look me in the eye and beg for the Living Death.” The fat of his cheeks bubbled, hissed, and popped. Before Hidan’s very eyes, the flesh of his face and body melted from his bones, dripping from a hollow skull, eyes bleeding to a ghastly shade of purple. The disembodied voice echoed off the walls of the chamber. “I will share my power with you, my servant. In return, you will paint these walls with blood. We will start with yours!” The mocking laughter rose in volume.

The cracked and bleeding skeleton stood, reaching out with the agility of a viper, snaking its bony digits around Hidan's tender neck. His breath escaped him in a rapturous whimper, and he surrendered to the will of Jashin. The black soup of Jashin’s flesh sloshed into movement, curling around Hidan’s feet. He felt the thick heat of ooze climbing up his body. The fear of what was about to happen was so delicious that his knees went slack, and he hung in Jashin’s grasp awaiting His divine judgment.

To his horror, the black mass forced its way down Hidan’s throat, filling him, violating him, scorching him from the inside out with acid and ash. He felt the horrible assertion that his blood was freezing, and his skin turned black as the marble floor. His eyes felt like they were bleeding, crying bloody tears upon the unfeeling stone, and his scalp itched and burned as if his hair were being burned away.

And then suddenly, he was sitting again as if nothing happened at all. Jashin sat there as he had before, arms and legs crossed and waiting. The smile he wore was smug and satisfied. His skin was back. His color was healthier, eyes so green that the world’s growing things would forever appear washed out, dark hair turned black and full and rich, crackling and whipping with the winds of power. His skin appeared to be vibrating with the tremors of some newfound energy. Hidan caught a movement out of the corner of his eyes, and his attention snapped to the ceiling that vaulted overhead. A swirl of red, wispy and dark, like blood, entered the clear pipes, seeping through the ceiling, curling, twisting…

A horrible thought occurred to him. He raised his palms, looking at his hands. They were pale, almost white. The wisp of hair that had fallen over his shoulder was bleached and lifeless. “What did you do to me?”

Jashin’s eyes glowed with the fright of a demon. He leaned forward as Hidan had, teeth gnashing and terrifying. “I made you live forever,” he hissed, sharp pointed tongue darting across his lush lips. “I filled you with my power, blessed you with my will. You will experience the glorious death of others as keenly as your own by way of my special ceremony. Every drop of blood will give me more power. Fill this chamber with their blood, and you will be rewarded.” He sat back. “And I will be free,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Hidan stared at the red liquid feeding the pipes of the ceiling. Blood. _His_ blood. “Now go.”

* * *

 

He groaned awake, his head pounding. He was exhausted and sticky. His fingers flexed, feeling heavy and unused. His brain felt foggy, as if he'd fallen asleep drunk and woken up hungover. He sat up in his bed and gasped aloud, greeted by a grisly sight that he could barely begin to comprehend.

His abdomen had been opened, entrails spilled upon the sheets. He was laying in a lake of his own blood, perhaps a day or so old and congealing. It was black and clotted in places, and cold. 

As he watched, fascinated and horrified alike, his pieces and parts righted themselves, bones creaking back into place, intestines crawling back inside him apologetically. His skin closed over his wounds, knitting itself back together. The knife wound that had started it all reversed itself until he was all one piece again, reborn on an altar of blood and feeling infinitely stronger than he had before. 

He flexed fingers that were newmade, paler than they had been before, but filled with a strength he had never possessed. The memory of Jashin crashed into him a moment later, reminding him of what had happened. _I filled you with my power, blessed you with my will._ Obsession blossomed. He had been given the power to experience the rapture of death whenever he chose, so long as he paid Jashin's more than reasonable price. He was suddenly overcome with the irresistible urge to pay that price back with vigor. "Let's see what these hands can do, Jashin-sama," he crooned.

Shivering with zealous anticipation, Hidan rose from the blood soaked sheets. "The Village that Has Forgotten Wars," he purred, laughing to himself. "I'll make sure that they remember, so that they will know You when their damned souls appear before You, Jashin-sama."

**Author's Note:**

> Hidan has never been my favorite character (I feel like I say this often...). However, he is one of the favorites of Ishimaru_Asuka, my much appreciated co-author. Through reading her writing, I have discovered a certain appreciation for his insanity, his foul language, and his uniqueness as a character.
> 
> When she issued this challenge, I knew I couldn't let her down, so I took my sweet time to come up with the perfect way to represent Hidan. I came up with this. Pretty happy with it. ^_^ And it's extra special.
> 
> Hm. Did I just write a yaoi? I think I might have just written a yaoi.


End file.
